


sun shines through the rain

by shuuuliet



Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Angst, But for Good Reason, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Shules, Two-Shot, also jules is a badass hero because obviously, also mentions of ~life tips~ from henry bc i'm obsessed with those, but what is her MOTIVATION, i wasn't actually setting out to write shawn so serious but here we are, mention of the 'close talking' scene in 2x09, obviously this whole thing is shules because otherwise what is the POINT, scared! shawn is good shawn, set mid-to-late season two or season three, shawn ended up being super angsty, shawn has nightmares, the biggest of which is losing jules, there's a mention of violence but it's not graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:34:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26490469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuuuliet/pseuds/shuuuliet
Summary: After a bust goes awry, almost leaving Juliet mortally injured, Shawn can't stop having nightmares about what might have happened to her. Set sometime between 2x09 and 3x16, Shawn begins to wonder just what he's been waiting for...Two-shot.
Relationships: Juliet O'Hara/Shawn Spencer
Comments: 14
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As always, Psych, Shawn, Juliet, Lassiter, Gus, and Henry aren’t mine, no matter how much I wish they were.
> 
> I'm writing Shawn again! Definitely out of my comfort zone, so we'll see how it goes. I had a lot of fun with my last two-shot, "hoping it's going to come true (but there's not a lot i can do)" (why do I make my titles so long, geez) so I'm trying to two-shot form again!
> 
> The title of this piece comes from The Bangles' “Eternal Flame” (1988), which seemed to match the questions and emotions Shawn has here nicely.

It was the second night of nightmares in a row. The _same_ nightmares, which, Shawn mused, trying to get his heart rate to slow down, as he stared at the ceiling, along with being terrifying, was also _boring_. After all, with his memory being the way that it was, he’d already memorized every detail of the dream the first night; the least the nightmare gods could do was give him something different.

Oh, who was he kidding? There was no one he was trying to impress; there was no reason for him to mock this dream to avoid admitting that he was just…well, _scared_. In reality, it was a small gift to get the same nightmare twice. The dream had been terrifying, and it was a little easier experiencing it the second time.

It was a little easier, but it wasn’t _easy_.

His heart rate still abnormally high, Shawn tried desperately to stop his memory from replaying the dream. He was awake now, he should be free of those images, like a normal person would be. But his memory, as usual, didn’t listen, instead plunging him back into the nightmare in flashes of visions, so realistic it was as if he was back asleep, trapped and tormented.

Shawn screwed his eyes shut, his arms involuntarily reaching up to cover his ears—as if that would be any use—but it was no good. It never was. Once he was in a memory, he had to be _in_ it. And so here he was, experiencing it again.

The thing was, the dream really had been unbelievably realistic. Another curse of his perfect memory meant that the parts of the dream pulled from reality were pulled to perfection—exact images of the very real things he’d witnessed. Then, once a believable location and situation were established, the nightmare twisted it, warping it into something so much worse than it had been.

And, it had already been pretty bad.

He’d stumbled upon a massive drug trafficking ring, off a bit of information that didn’t quite add up from an arrest the SBPD had made several days earlier. Of course, he’d been told not to pursue it, to let Lassie and Jules handle it, but—again, of _course_ —he hadn’t listened, which was why he’d deduced the warehouse where the drugs were preparing to be shipped, as well as when the preparation was happening.

He should have called Lassie and Jules in right then, he knew. He should never have gone in without backup. But he hadn’t really been intending to bust them, not right then. He’d merely wanted to garner a little more information, prove that he was right, figure out who exactly was involved—though he suspected he was correct about the two perpetrators already.

So he’d headed in, slinking along behind a row of crates in the warehouse, realizing a moment too late that he was in way over his head—there were way more people involved in this scheme than he thought. Five, to be exact, instead of the two he was anticipating.

He’d called Jules while hiding behind a crate, saying nothing and keeping the volume on his phone silent so that she could hear everything going on around him but the perps wouldn’t be alerted to his presence. He knew she’d come if he called.

She did, with Lassie, but not before Shawn had been discovered. When she’d arrived, he’d been tied up, in a heap on the ground, just coming to after having been knocked out by the butt of a gun.

The first thing he noticed was that several of the suspects had disappeared, no doubt fleeing when they realized what Shawn had witnessed. By the time Lassie and Jules arrived, only two remained—the ringleader, whom Shawn had been tracking for over a week, and what appeared to be his right-hand man, the other perp Shawn had suspected, who disappeared behind a stack of crates just as the door burst open to let Juliet and Lassie in.

The boss had attempted to flee almost immediately, taking several shots at Lassie, who dodged them as he pursued him.

Juliet had immediately run to Shawn, crouching on the floor next to him and pulling the gag out of his mouth, beginning to untie the knots that held him. “Shawn, are you okay?” she’d asked worriedly, almost involuntarily running her hand across his forehead in a gesture of comfort.

But there was no time to dwell on the moment, to respond to the question, to say anything except inform Jules that there was still a suspect in the room, hiding nearby, and even that almost came out too late, the suspect darting out of hiding suddenly and hitting Juliet on the side of her face.

She recovered almost instantly, ignoring the blood springing up on her forehead and her cheek and leaping to her feet. The suspect wheeled around, pulling his gun out and pointing it at Shawn, but Jules, with a half-second glance at Shawn, dove in front of him, her body shielding his, just as the man pulled the trigger. Shawn’s scream died in his throat.

But—miracle of miracles—the round was a dud. The misfire gave Shawn just enough time to finish kicking himself free of his restraint and tackle the suspect around the knees, causing him to drop his weapon.

They’d managed to nab the suspects— _all_ of them, the other three fleeing right into the cavalry that Jules had called in—but right now, the dream fresh in his mind, that didn’t seem to matter quite as much.

In the dream, see, the gun didn’t misfire. In the dream, it hit its unintended target, right in front of Shawn, as he watched helplessly. And it was that vision from the dream that haunted him now.

He wished he could roll over and find her there, next to him, sleeping soundly. He wished that _most_ nights, in fact, not just when she’d saved his life, but he wished for it more than anything right now.

He squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to focus on the one somewhat pleasant moment of the day, holding Jules’ hand as the medics cleaned them up, bandaging her cuts. They hadn’t spoken, but she’d let him sit there, next to her, their knees touching, her left hand in his, resting on his thigh.

She ordinarily probably wouldn’t have allowed it, but she seemed to understand that he needed the physical contact, needed the assurance of their intertwined fingers that she really was going to be okay.

The third night, Shawn falls asleep at the Psych office instead of in his apartment, but the nightmare comes, all the same. He wakes up, sweaty and terrified, his legs tangled in the blanket he’d thrown over his lap and his heart hammering again.

He _knows_ Juliet is okay, but he still wakes up breathless and afraid, desperate for her hand in his, her muffled giggle when he says something funny and she doesn’t want to encourage him, hell, even just the sound of her voice, anything at all. Instead, he stands up, shaking his head to clear it, and heads down to the beach.

On the beach, he calls Gus, who doesn’t answer; he’s probably snoozing happily, visions of jerk chicken and a plethora of new clients on his pharmaceutical route dancing through his sweet brown head. (It _is_ three in the morning, after all.) He leaves Gus a voicemail, but he’s so disoriented that even _he_ doesn’t really remember what he says, something about the beach and Jules, and how the lack of churro vendors at three in the morning is startling and upsetting.

When he’s rambled long enough, he hangs up, staring out at the water again from his perch on a bench. He tries to pull his thoughts away from Jules, but it doesn’t work.

It’s been working less and less, these days, even before the nightmares started happening.

He _knows_ she’s okay. But that doesn’t stop the guilt that comes with the dreams, that if she hadn’t been okay, it would have been his fault. It makes him want to wrap his arms around her, cling to her tightly, beg her forgiveness, and then never let her go.

He hears his dad’s voice in his head when he thinks about that moment, watching Jules fall in front of him. “Shawn, actions always have consequences,” his dad has always said. “And no matter how good you are, you can’t outrun them.”

Much as he hates to admit it, his dad was right. Because even though Jules is okay and alive, those nightmares are the consequences he can’t quite outrun. They’re so much better than the alternative, and he’d pick nightmares in a heartbeat over Jules being really hurt, nightmares every night for the rest of his life, even, if that’s what it takes, but they’re a consequence nonetheless. He can’t go in without backup again. But more than that, he can’t put Jules in danger again.

For what’s probably the millionth time in his life, he curses his perfect memory. If only it lapsed sometimes. Maybe then he wouldn’t be so haunted by it, by the look in Juliet’s eyes just before she jumped in front of him.

It was…different, somehow, than he’d ever seen her look at him before. More intense, more determined, certainly, but there was a softness there too, and it might have given him some kind of hope if he hadn’t been so sure that one or both of them was about to be killed.

He thinks about that softness in her eyes, and it makes something inside him flutter for just a moment. Of course, he tells himself, she’d only done it because she’s a cop. She would have jumped in front of anyone, because she’s _Juliet_ , and she’s probably the most fiercely protective person he’s ever known, not to mention that she takes the _duty_ of being a cop as seriously as his dad does.

In fact, she’d practically said as much, when he’d stammered on to her about it afterwards. She’d just shrugged slightly, said gently, “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

And yet, there had been something in her tone when she’d said that, a kind of tension he’s heard before but couldn’t quite place in the moment. Her words hadn’t matched her tone, hadn’t matched the look in her eyes as she said them, a kind of blazing intensity that almost made him blush, the same intensity he’d seen in them just before she dove in front of him.

She hadn’t said anything else about it to him, though, just let him hold her hand gently as they got cleaned up afterward. He hadn’t said anything further either, not knowing quite _what_ to say, for once in his life, because this was _Jules_ , and anything he said about it had to be exactly right. In fact, they _still_ hadn’t really talked about it, seeing as Shawn has tried very hard not to think about it until he wakes up in the middle of the night, unable to avoid it any longer.

But, he thinks again, that moment with her before…what _was_ that in her tone? He scans through his favorite moments with Jules in his mind—there’s so many of them, and he can’t help dwelling for a moment on some favorites—and suddenly, there it is.

“I’m just glad you’re okay.” Her voice in that moment had matched exactly with another moment between them—a very different one, all things considered, without anyone else nearby, but it had been him and Jules standing alone, then, and she had a bandage on her forehead that was smaller, but otherwise not unlike the one she’d be sporting after this bust.

“Well,” she’d said then, “it’s been a long day.”

He grins, remembering. The words had been a dismissal, like they had been three days ago, but the tension between them was almost an invitation, and he’d taken it. That had been the night he almost kissed her, a moment he’s thought about nearly every time he’s looked at her since, wondering in hopeful anticipation if they’d ever get to finish what they started.

Her tone when she’d looked at him three days ago, bleeding but somehow calm—how did Jules _do_ it?—had been much the same. The words didn’t match the electricity there, didn’t match the intensity of the way they’d looked at each other, but he hadn’t quite pieced it together until now.

And suddenly, he has to know. He has to see if there’s more to it.

Yes, it’s three in the morning, but this is _Jules_ , and if that moment meant something, he just has to know. So, why not here? Why not now? If the events of three days ago taught him anything, there’s just not time to wait around wondering.

He picks up his phone, dialing the number he knows by heart with shaking fingers.

“Jules!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, Shawn ended up way angsty-er in this than I thought he would be, I don’t even know how that happened. This also ended up being much longer than I was planning. Still, I really hope you enjoy it!
> 
> As usual, I own nothing related to Psych or these characters.

Shawn’s not sure why getting Juliet’s voicemail catches him so off-guard. After all, it’s three in the morning, and there’s no reason why she _should_ be answering her phone. And, if she’s sleeping, it means she’s not dwelling on the events of three days ago, like he is, and that’s good. He doesn’t want that for her.

Still, he can’t pretend he’s not disappointed. He lost his momentum when he heard the tone, and the voicemail he ends up leaving is stilted, ramble-y, like the one he left for Gus, except this one makes even _less_ sense, probably. He says something about the beach, and about hoping she’s sleeping, and that he hopes the cuts she got during the warehouse incident are healing nicely, because if she keeps wearing the bandages, Gus will think she’s a mummy and won’t go anywhere near her.

When he hangs up, he feels even worse. It had helped at first, hearing her voice on her voicemail away message, but the second he’d heard the tone, his heart had started beating too fast and he didn’t know what to say.

And it was _okay_ —after all, what he wanted to say wasn’t a voicemail kind of message, anyway—but still, now Juliet will hear it, and she’ll be concerned, and he doesn’t know what he _will_ say to her, the next time he sees her, since they haven’t even talked about what she did for him, still, and he still feels so _guilty_.

In the end, he only stays out on the beach a little longer—looking out at the water helps; it always has, ever since he was a kid trying to escape his dad’s house—but eventually he sighs and texts Gus, asking him to pick up the warehouse case check from the police station when he’s out on his route tomorrow.

He’s just not ready to see Jules yet, even though so much of him wants nothing more than to see her, hold her in his arms, right this second, even. He needs more time, though. In a way, he’s grateful that she didn’t answer her phone, because now that he has hung up, he’s lost his nerve—he’s terrified again. He knows he’s actually not at all sure about what he wants to say anymore. He just has to be sure he gets it _right_ , when he finally talks to her. He needs to know the exact right thing to say to her about everything, because this is _Jules_ , and she deserves the very best of him, even though he’s already failed her in so many ways.

So he knows Gus will go get the check, and that will buy him a little more time. But he’s going to have to talk to Jules eventually, and then he’s going to have to know what he wants to say.

He heads back to the _Psych_ office, and it’s not until the sun has risen and Gus has confirmed that he’ll pick up the check that Shawn falls back into a dreamless nap in front of the TV.

\-----

Juliet, meanwhile, is confused. The voicemail from Shawn was bizarre—she has no idea what to make of it, but she’s starting to really worry about him. He doesn’t answer when she calls him back, and he was so _quiet_ after they’d made it out of the warehouse, sitting silently next to her, holding her hand, not even trying to flirt with her like he usually would. And there was something different in his eyes—something a little like fear, shock maybe. She kept catching him studying her as the medic bandaged the cuts on her face, and there was something deep in his gaze, yet gentle, too, like she was made of glass and he was afraid she’d shatter.

She normally loves when she catches him looking at her so intently; it usually washes over her, like sinking into a warm bath. This time, though, there’s something wrong in his eyes, and it scares her. Shawn never lets on that he’s afraid, not like this.

A few times he’d opened his mouth, as if to say something, and then closed it again. In the end, he hadn’t said anything at all, which made Juliet certain that something was bothering him. She’d tried to give him a reassuring smile a few times, and he smiled back, but it never reached his eyes. She could see how shaken up he was.

At the time, she’d tried to chalk it up to the fact that he’d almost died, but now she’s not so sure. Between his face then and the weird voicemail, there was definitely something bugging him, and that something had to do with her.

She tries not to dwell on it as she drives to work, but she can’t seem to get him quite out of her mind. Not that that’s a surprise, exactly, she’s never _quite_ able to get him off her mind, even on her best days, but this is different. She can’t shake the idea that something is wrong, and she can’t stand the thought of that. Still, she reassures herself, he has to come in to the station to pick up his check at _some_ point, and he’s never been able to make a visit to the station without stopping by her desk, so she’ll see him, and then it’ll be okay. _He’ll_ be okay. He has to be; after all, this is _Shawn_.

All morning, she remains distracted, looking up from her desk every time someone moves in the bullpen, which drives Lassiter nuts.

“O’Hara, would you stop _looking_ at me?” He exclaims, noticing for about the thirtieth time that Juliet’s aimless stare around the bullpen has landed in his direction. “What is going _on_ with you today?”

“Sorry, Carlton,” she says, shaking her head. “Just tired, I guess.”

“Well, get it together,” he says. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“Right,” she answers, nodding. “Of course.”

She doesn’t, though, and she’s half-convinced herself to use her lunch break to just go see Shawn, figure this out, when Gus strolls into the station. She immediately makes a beeline for him—perhaps she can just ask Shawn to go to lunch with her, and then they can talk this weirdness out.

But Shawn is nowhere to be found.

“Gus!” She exclaims, surprised, “Shawn’s not with you?”

“No, he told me to pick up the check while I was out on my route,” Gus explains.

She frowns. “Huh.”

“Something wrong?”

“Hmm? Oh, no, no. Not wrong, exactly,” she bit her lip. “I just got a weird voicemail from him last night, that’s all. He was down at the beach or something. It was pretty late, too. I guess I just got a little worried.”

“Well...he’s—” Gus hesitates, “he’s been having nightmares.”

She swallows. “What kind of nightmares?”

“Not too sure,” Gus lies. “I just know that going down to the beach seemed to help last night.”

“The beach seems like a weird place to be in the middle of the night,” Juliet comments idly.

“Well, he slept at the Psych office,” Gus says. “But going down by the water probably calmed him down. It has since we were kids. He called me from there, too.”

Juliet nods, distracted again. “Has he…been having the nightmares a lot?” She asks, trying desperately to sound innocuous.

Gus hesitates again. “A couple of days. Since…well, you know. Since what happened at the warehouse.”

She nods again, remembering the look in Shawn’s eyes as he’d held her hand. Something about that case is _definitely_ bugging him, and she feels her stomach tense up again at the memory of how upset and un-Shawn-like he’d been that night.

Gus glances at her, seeing the obvious worry on her face. “He’ll be fine, Juliet,” he says gently. “Knowing Shawn, he’s probably got some crazy plan to beat the nightmares away, like putting on a Val Kilmer marathon so he won’t sleep for four days or something.”

She forces herself to laugh, to ease the moment. “Yeah, that sounds like him.”

“He’ll be glad to hear you were asking about him, though,” says Gus, giving her a _look_ that she’s come to recognize quite well. It’s Gus’ trademark you-two-think-you’re-so-sly-but-I-know-exactly-what’s-going-on-here look, and he’s given it to her and Shawn on many occasions. It always makes a little thrill of hope surge in her, but today she’s still a little too worried to do much more than smile weakly back at him.

“Don’t play it up for him, Gus,” she teases. “I’ll call him back, anyway.”

“I won’t have to,” he responds, “Shawn will build it up enough for himself; I’m sure he’ll be calling you two minutes after I tell him I talked to you to ask why you were inquiring so intently about his well-being.”

She laughs, rolling her eyes, and then says goodbye to Gus. Maybe Shawn _will_ call, and this really will be nothing, and they can go back to just teasing each other, and he’ll be okay.

But he doesn’t call. She spends the afternoon hardly thinking about work at all, instead going over her conversation with Gus in her mind. So, Shawn’s been having nightmares. There’s got to be _something_ she can do…

\-----

Shawn isn’t going to let this be the fourth night of nightmares in a row. He’s just not. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to call Jules back when she’d called, and he knows he won’t be able to until he’s free of this, until he can stop hearing the pop of gunshots in his mind from the dreams every time he thinks about her. (And he thinks about her _a lot_.)

He heads back down to the beach once he gets tired. It’s already close to midnight, but he doesn’t mind. Maybe the water will calm him down again, enough that he could fall asleep later and avoid another night of terror.

But it’s colder tonight, and the wind has picked up more than it did the night before. He’s just settling into his bench, burrowing into his sweatshirt, when he hears someone approaching.

“Hey,” a familiar voice says.

He turns, and there she is, looking beautiful as ever, her cheeks flushed from the wind, holding a blanket and a thermos. “Jules?”

“Mind if I join you?” she asks, already walking towards him.

“Well, you’re going to have to share the blanket,” he says.

She smiles, heaves a mock-dramatic sigh. “I _guess_.”

She drapes the blanket around them so it’s half around his shoulders and half around hers and hands him the thermos. “Hot chocolate,” she says.

Shawn takes it, feeling warm all at once for reasons that he knows have absolutely nothing to do with the blanket or the thermos. They’re both quiet for a moment.

“So,” she says.

“So,” he agrees, trying desperately to think of something funny to say, something to make her think everything’s okay and he’s completely fine.

But he comes up empty. He just doesn’t have it in him, not tonight.

“I got this weird voicemail in the middle of the night last night,” she says, smiling at him in the way that always leaves him powerless, her eyes scrunched up in an impossibly adorable manner. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

He shakes his head, “I don’t know, Jules, I’ve heard telemarketers work crazy hours these days. Gotta put food on the table, you know?” It’s lame, but it’s _something_.

“Is that right?” She asks. “Huh.”

He sighs, knowing he owes her a bit more honesty, but he’s not actually ready to completely give it to her yet. “Look, sorry about that. I-I wasn’t expecting to leave a voicemail, I was just exhausted.”

She nods slightly, but looks at him in disbelief. “Shouldn’t you have known I wouldn’t answer, though,” she asks, “being a psychic and all?”

“You know it doesn’t work like that, Jules,” he says, laughing. “If it did, I’d only ever call my dad when I _knew_ I’d get his voicemail.”

She laughs, too. “I see.”

She says nothing more for a moment. Shawn takes a drink of the hot chocolate, trying to calm his nerves a little bit. He’s still not sure what Jules is doing here, or how she knew where to find him, or what he can possibly say to her to explain how tortured he’s been since the night in the warehouse.

“So,” he finally says, passing the thermos to her and watching her take a sip, “do you want to explain why you came to find me, or should I let—” he screws up his voice so it comes out high-pitched and squeaky, “eighth-grade Jules do it?”

She shrugs. “I saw Gus at the station today and he told me you might be down here. I just thought I’d take a shot.”

She doesn’t realize what she’s said until she hears his sharp intake of breath. “Oh—I—that was just an expression,” she stammers, unsure of why she feels so awkward.

He nods. “It’s okay, Jules.”

She sighs. “Look, Shawn, these last few days, I—I feel like you’re angry with me or something.”

He can’t help it—he laughs. “ _Angry_ at you?!”

She looks a little hurt, and it makes his heart clench. That came out wrong.

“It’s just,” she says, “you were so _quiet_ after what happened the other day, and then I haven’t seen you since, or heard from you, even, except for that weird voicemail last night.”

He shakes his head, trying to figure out what to say. A moment passes in silence.

“You know, Jules,” he says at last, looking out at the water instead of at her, “you _did_ save my life the other night.”

She looks at him, simultaneously confused and relieved. “You’re upset because I saved your life?” She asks. “Is that all? I’m a cop, Shawn. It’s what I’m supposed to do.”

“I know, I know,” Shawn says, shaking his head. “And I know it sounds ridiculous. But God, Jules, do you know what almost happened? Do you know what would have happened if—?” his voice breaks on the last word.

She looks at him, her brow furrowed. “If _what_ , Shawn?”

“If I’d let something happen to you?” He lets out a breath. “Jules, _I_ brought you in there, _I_ didn’t warn you in time, _I_ just lay there as that bastard hit you, and then you almost _died_ because he wanted to shoot _me._ ”

Juliet is silent for a moment, but Shawn isn’t finished.

“I can’t stop seeing it, Jules,” he says softly. “Every night, since. The gun misfired, thank God, but in my dream it doesn’t and _I almost let that happen to you in real life_.”

She looks at him, but he’s not looking at her; his gaze, instead, is directed out towards the water, but Juliet can see that his eyes are glassy.

“Hey,” she says, gently, putting her hand on his. “It _didn’t_ happen, though. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

He sighs, shaking his head, but he still doesn’t look at her.

“Shawn,” she says, “look at me.”

He doesn’t, for a minute, but then slowly turns his head, his eyes still filled with tears. It takes a moment before he pulls his gaze up to meet hers.

“Shawn, what happened in there wasn’t your fault,” she says. “I can’t believe I even have to tell you that, actually. You were tied up, Shawn. Literally! What were you supposed to have done?”

He shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have gone in there.”

She considers this, nodding slightly. “No, next time you should wait and call me _first_ , probably. But hey, Lassiter _did_ get to tackle that one perp, and it’s always nice for him to get that aggression out.”

Shawn smiles weakly at her, but then turns away again, putting his head in his hands.

“But Shawn,” she continues, “there’s something else you need to know, okay? And maybe I should have told you this from the get-go, but…” she pauses, taking a deep breath. “I—I didn’t do it because I’m a cop, you know.”

Shawn takes his head out of his hands and tilts it up at her, looking confused. “What?”

“Shawn, you’re not the only one who would never forgive himself if something happened,” she says.

He still looks puzzled, turning his gaze back to the water. She can almost see the wheels turning in his head. “You mean…?” he mutters, trailing off.

“I—I wasn’t being a cop, when I jumped in front of that gun,” she says. “I mean, I’m always a cop—” she feels her face growing warm, “but you know what I mean.”

She sees the wry smile she adores quirk up on his profile—God, she’s missed that smile, even though it’s only been a few days--as he continues to look out at the water. “Jules, what are you trying to say?”

“What I’m saying,” she says slowly, “is that I wasn’t thinking about _duty_ , Shawn, I was thinking about _you_ , and how if he shot you, I just—.” Now she’s the one not finishing her sentences.

“Well, I couldn’t let that happen,” she finishes lamely. _Because my world would end_ , _but there’s got to be a way to say that that won’t freak him out_.

Shawn is quiet for a moment, but he’s still smiling softly.

“Shawn,” she tries again, “what I mean is—if I had the chance to do it again today, I would. I would do it again every single time. And not because of me being a cop. And not because in the end, I didn’t get shot. I would do it… because of _you_. I would _always_ save _you_.”

Shawn looks at her, and without pausing to think about it, wraps his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. He holds her for a long moment, relishing the feel of her in his arms—so alive, so _okay_ —and tries to convey in his embrace all the emotions coursing through him, all the love for her he feels, not because she saved him, but because she’s _Juliet_ , and he doesn’t know what he could have ever done to deserve her.

And even more than that, he finally understands now. This is where the intensity in her eyes came from. She hadn’t saved him because of her obligation as a cop, she just _chose_ to. She wanted to save _him_.

“Well,” he says finally, realizing he has to say something as he lets her go, “ _someone’s_ got to make sure I make it home to Gus, after all.”

She laughs. “I guess it’s going to have to be me.”

He loves making her laugh, watching her laugh, but he knows the joke isn’t enough for this moment, for what she just told him. He just doesn’t have the words to respond to her, for once.

At last, he turns back to her, presses his lips to her shoulder as they gaze out towards the water together. “Thank you,” he whispers. It’s not enough, not nearly enough, but it will have to do for now.

She smiles gently and then relaxes into him, resting her head on his shoulder and pulling the blanket tighter around them. He takes her hand, squeezing it, before resting his head on top of hers.

They fall asleep like that, resting against one another, their fingers intertwined. There is more to say, of course. There always will be. But for now, they rest.

This time, there are no nightmares. She is okay. They are okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fin. I hope you enjoyed this! I love having these crazy kids dance around each other for forever, so close to figuring it out but just not there yet. I hope angsty Shawn doesn’t feel too out of character, I just felt like something like this would really mess with him.
> 
> Thank you so much, as always, for reading, and please feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you thought! I always love getting feedback!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you SO much for reading! I hope to have the second half of this piece up next week. As always, any feedback on this work is very welcome and appreciated! Thank you, thank you, thank you, again, for taking the time to read this! Would love to hear your thoughts!


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